FanFiction Can Be Hazardous To Your Health
by Aizea
Summary: Yes, I know this is weird, but so am I. Please let me know what you think and thanks for reading.
1. The Curse of Technology

Fan-Fiction Can Be Hazardous To Your Health

Sitting up late at my computer, basking in the glow of the screen at the wee hours of the night, pardon, morning, as I work on yet another installment of my out of control fanfic which has taken over my life, the computer freezes yet again. _Goramm stinkin bucket of silicon chips. Goramm? Maybe I've been at this a mite too long tonight. _I press control, alt, delete, my master stroke for any computer ailment. No luck. Again. Again. Nothing. Press the on-off button, nothing. Unplug it from the wall, nothing still. C'mon, you possessed or something? Just when I had the juices flowing and my fingers flying with minimal typos this goes and happens every ruttin' time.

Muttering some catchy catch phrases under my breath I go for the Hail Mary of my do-it-youself tech support. Ok, control, alt, delete, while popping out the battery and pressing the on-off switch…Hey where did these extra hands come from that allows me to be doin' all this at the same time? No time for an answer as a flash of light and commotion of noise and the next thing I know I'm flat on my back on the floor. _What the guay? _I pull myself uprightish and squinting at the weird light shining from odd angles I wonder just what the heck is wrong with the computer. _That sure as hell ain't my screensaver. _

As I rub my sore backside I am confused by the redecoration that has taken place in my dorm some how without my noticing. Hmm… the exciting brown circa 1970-something tiles are now cold metal grating, well least the room's dry instead of the normal steaming atmosphere from my amphibious roommates who practically live in the shower. Bed? Nope. Desk and Chair? Nope. The Tower of Terrifying Textbooks? Nope. Hell yeah! Wait no, I have to sell those back and get some cash come end of the semester, crap. Work-out bench and weights? Giant crates with elaborate Chinese characters inscribed on the sides? Check and Double Check. Wait... Toto, I don't think I'm in Kansas anymore, or my dorm either for that matter.

I try to finish sitting up only to decide laying down works just as well, if not better right at the moment. Next I open my eyes to find a faceful of hair and a familiar looking person, body bent double over, staring at me intently. Dude, I've got to get more sleep, those 7:00 classes are killing me. I blink, nope, still there and it isn't my roomie either. _River?_

"I heard you coming, next time just knock." She whispers before twirling off. Gotta be dreaming, definitely that's it. !PINCH! Eowch! So much for that idea, never works in the movies anyways.

"What's your sister going on about 'She's finally here' all about? Don't tell me she's off her meds again, I don't think Jayne'd be too taken with that notion of reacquainting his chest with a knife wielding River any time soon Doc so…"

Two men descended the stairs just as my mind went all bibbidy-boo over the edge. _Well least maybe I'll get some autographs_. And then it all went black.


	2. Mornin' Sunshine

…who do you expect she is…

…Hey, quit touching that Jayne…

…More importantly Kaylee, how the hell'd she get aboard?...

…Jayne! I said don't touch her…

…goramm ruttin' Zoe, spoilin' any fun, and after Mal made me haul her all the way up here to the infirmary from the cargo bay. Heavier than she looks…

…hmmm, her vitals are fine and I see no injuries so I wonder what she was doing laying unconscious on the cargo bay floor when we found her…

…sensory input overloads the circuitry, leads to infinite improbability of actions causing the temporary conversion and subsequent diversion of the dimensional pathways in the woods, thus explaining this visitor and her current non-responsive state. Plus, she's sleepy…

Voices fading in and out as I slowly wake and my eyes dart about under still closed lids.

_Did I fall asleep in organic chemistry, or something? _Damn that's cold. Those practical jokesters in my chem lab must have laid me on top of the cold labtop's surface. Guess it could've been worse. Last year the prof had the whole class wheel a student who fell dead asleep to the world in the middle of his class down to the human biology building. Kid woke up laying on a gurney next to a bunch of cadavers the medical students had been dissecting. Scared the hell out of the med students too.

Slowly dragging my eyes open I am blinded by a cold clinical blue light and I realize that what I am laying on is an examination table.

"Mal, she's coming around."

_What? Mal? No… _Slowly short fuzzy images of what I had thought was a dream started filtering back to the forefront of my mind. Eyes flying completely open I was greeted with a _click _and strange _whirring _noise near my head. Focusing my blurry vision on the offending object hovering just in front of my sight I am rewarded to the treat of awaking to the barrel of a gun. _Shit._

"Well, well. Morning lil' sleeping beauty. Ah, not so quick, don't be getting up just yet.", and I heard another _click_ echo from the other side of the room as I shifted to sit up. "We have a few questions to be asking you, specifically ones considering how the hell you got on my goramm ship!"

Never being one to consider swooning much of a proper resolution or exciting development in those horribly dull classical Victorian angst/ love novels I had to read in English classes, I started to think perhaps those terribly repressed, worrisome dames had the right idea in situations such as these. Alas, I guess I had used up my one "Get out of trouble free" swoon card for the day, since I was still conscious of the people hovering around me as I lay on an operating table with three guns trained on little ol' dangerous me.

"Now I suggest you be thinking real hard as to your answer little lady, we aren't ones to play round with. So just lay it out plain for us how it is that you are here, on my ship, in the middle of nowhere out here in the Black."

Looks like that's the question of the day, Hell I would like to know that as well. _Don't I at least get to call a friend or ask the audience? _Nope. Didn't think so_. Shit._


	3. Mary Sue

_Ok, think, think, think. Crap, don't do well under pressure. Ok, breathe, just breathe, focus and don't throw up._

"Captain Reynolds, I think she really doesn't look very good, perhaps you should…"

"Doc, I'm the Captain and right now I'm not caring too much if I am not being my usual warm and fuzzy "let's talk about your feelings" self considering we have an unknown and possibly dangerous stowaway on board. I want answers little girl and I want them now. Who in the goramm 'verse are you and what are you doing aboard my ship?"

_Shit, shit, shit_, "Ahhh, um, name? Yes I have a name it's…it's…" _much easier to think without a gun in your face_… "uhhm, Mary…Sue? No wait..." _crap, I'm an idiot. _Everybody is looking at me and none to friendly like either. Yeah, real insert-yourself-here fanfics would never get past the first chapter because they would end real quick with and **_bang_** and a **_squish_**. The End.

"All right little Miss Mary Sue, or maybe not, how is it that you managed to get aboard?"

"Uhmm, the ever ubiquitous deus-ex-machina of literary canons?"

_**Click.** _

"Sorry, sorry I dunno, I really don't," _Me and my smart mouth. _"Oh God I don't wanna be space debris. I'm too young to be space debris and not even space debris in my own dimension, time period, home planet's orbit, whatever, Oh God…"

"I'm gonna ask you one last time, and think real careful how you wanna answer. Perhaps something not involving canons of any sort would be a good start considering that we are armed and gettin' a mite irritated. Now, what are you doing on my ship and how the hell did you get aboard?"

Ok, ok, hmmm. Was typing, then computer froze, then blammy, now I'm here. _Yeah,_ _that will go over **real** well._ Just as I was about to resign myself to getting a souvenir in the brain or taking a spacewalk sans spacesuit I was rescued by my barefoot knightess in a shift.

"I told you, it was the sensory input which overloads the circuitry, leading to infinite improbability of actions causing the temporary conversion and subsequent diversion of our two dimensional pathways. Then again nobody ever listens to what I say." River muttered.

Thankfully that drew everyone's attention away from me for a split second, allowing me to postpone a premature stroke or heart attack for a few moments longer.

"River? And you…Mary…Sue... whoever the hell you are, what in the goramm 'verse is going on?" Mal bellowed as he looked bewilderedly back and forth between the two of us.

Ok, how do these cross dimensional things usually work? Hmmm, generally there is some sort of dire peril in which only one person, Mary Sue, can save everyone using her breathtaking beauty, cunning wit, wonderful personality and her unrivaled skills in combat, telepathy and cheerfully perky singing with cute fuzzy animals, as well as abysmal writing skills, which allows her to be called anywhere in which her attributes are needed to horribly annoy and piss off everyone who reads it, therefore successfully defeating the bad guys who commit ritual suicide rather than face that fuzzy glop of annoyance as soon as they hear the dreaded words "Mary Sue".

Well unless they consider a shrimpy college student with severe apathy towards fashion, terribly antisocial tendencies and the only skill in which I am unparalled in is sarcasm their savior I am pretty sure we are all thoroughly screwed, pardon, humped. Must remember to stay in character for this universe. Whew, guess that means I'm in no danger of turning into a Mary Sue quite yet then.

Dammit, that also means the ticket to getting back where I was coming from is to figure out and solve whatever brought me here in the first place. Shit, I really suck at decision making, I haven't even officially announced my major yet, much less save anyone or anything in distress due to my impeccably nonexistent leadership skills. This ought to be _real_ fun.


End file.
